


Bunker Rendezvous

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Married Sex, Missionary Position
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Initially, Curtis sets up a date night in for his favorite power as they transform their attic into a secondary bunker in case the first one ever becomes compromise yet again. Dinners and alcohol lead to some fun antics in numerous places of the lair, and sometimes Star City's beloved married duo just can't help themselves. Oliver and Felicity spend a lot of long nights in the lair. How do Dig and Thea feel about this?





	1. Setup

( _Originally from 520 "Underneath" via_[ _source_](http://arrowsource.ca/post/160284765216/promise-me-youre-not-gonna-tell-anyone-that-we).)

Felicity's nimble fingers scurry across the keyboard. Lines of code reflect off her signature spectacles. Curtis' slightly slower typing speeds blends with his friends. They're supposed to working to install an upgraded EMP shield over the secondary bunker's system. However, one Mr. Holt has concocted a delightful plan of his — one he's sure his favorite power couple will take full advantage of in their time alone together.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Curtis' gaze darts over to his former boss, "So do you and Oliver have any plans for tonight?"

"You mean stopping Church's cronies on Grand, and making sure what Chase did to our old lair never happens here? Then no."

"Really?" Her friend replies incredulously, "But it's been awhile since you two had a little one-on-one time."

Raising an eyebrow, the blonde hacker suspects, "What are you getting at, Holt? We have work to do."

As if on cue, heavy footsteps bound the stairs. Oliver emerges from a dimly lit hallway with a bag of Chinese takeout from their one of the Queens' favorite local eateries, Jade Dragon. Bags rustling mingle with his mentor's heavy sigh. Oliver's azure eyes flick over to his recruit.

"Curtis, what did I tell you? Next time pick up your own food."

In the nick of time, a ping sounds off from the former Olympian's cellphone.

"Oh, oh!" Their friend exclaims shortly, glancing down at a bright screen. "That's Paul, my Paul."

"Uh-huh." Felicity acknowledges, "You do know we have to raise the EMP shield as soon as possible."

"Felicity, I think it can wait."

She narrows her eyes at him.

Her friend elaborates, "Please, it's our first date night since couple's counseling, so we're going meet at the bar and pretend we're total strangers. You know, spice things up a bit."

Felicity's crinkly expression between her eyebrows softens. How could she say no to that? Love is a beautiful part of life, and the Holts' are beginning to blossom once again.

"Fine, go," insists the blonde with a wave of her hand.

Her teammate chimes, "Thank you."

"Say hi to Paul for us," Oliver bids as the gangly man rushes out the door.

Turning around, Curtis suggests, "Oh, before I forget, there's red wine in the mini-fridge."

On that note, Curtis sneakers squeak against the floorboards as he jogs rapidly down to his car.

"Did we really just fall for that again?" Felicity inquires, spinning her rolling desk chair around to face Oliver.

Her husband feigns a complaint, "Yup, what's he think that we can't plan a good date night for ourselves?"

"We're married." Felicity concurs, holding up her left hand for emphasis. "Ah, that reminds me."

Per usual, Felicity slips Oliver's husky wedding band off her thumb, sliding it back on his finger right where it belongs.

He whispers in that special, intimate way of his— one that's reserved for only her, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So any problems dropping off Brooks to SCPD?" She queries, briefly scanning his body for any visible injuries.

"Not a one," the archer assures, planting a chaste kiss to her cheek. "How was your day?"

Interlacing their fingertips, his wife says softly, "Better now that you're home. You sure you're okay?"

"Yes." He promises, tracing ambiguous patterns over her arms, "Well, you probably want to get back to your work."

"You know me too well."

Hard, succinct punches against a training dummy couple with clacks and beeps from Felicity's workstation. Eventually, the couple's stomachs beg for some sustenance. The attic is nowhere near as spacious as their bunker under Oliver's old campaign office, but considering Oliver and Felicity's combined paychecks provide them with a comfortable penthouse, it's no dinky storage space either. Scents of General Tao's chicken and umptuous crab rangoon waft throughout the room as Oliver and Felicity share what to some would be mundane tidbits about their day. Despite their surroundings, the Queens refuse to discuss work or Team Arrow related business on a date night. Those topics tend to draw their attention spans' elsewhere. Two nearly empty containers along with a couple champagne flutes rest atop their coffee table, the glasses are left with the barest sip of Sterling Cabernet. For an inexpensive bottle, it's got lovely tart notes of black cherry and blackberry with a surprising mocha aroma. Oliver and Felicity can't help, but enjoy more than a glass or two. Star City's first couple finds themselves by the salmon ladder. 

Felicity's teeth dig in her lower lip.

Oliver points out, "You know it's okay if you don't want to do this, Felicity."

"Ye of little faith," his wife claims with a scoff, "I can do a chin up way better than before."

"I always believe in you. You ready, Hon?"

She simply responds with a quiet nod. Felicity holds tightly to a metal bar that's attached to the third to lowest rung. Hanging a bit off the floor, she pulls herself up over the bar slightly.

"Hey, hey!" Felicity says, feeling surprised at her own self, "Look, I'm chinning and upping."

"Yep." Her husband instructs, "Remember it's a basic chin up with a little flourish at the end."

Felicity attempts to move the bar to the fourth rung to no avail. She's left dangling from the ground.

"No, no. Can't do it," his wife protests adamantly. "Help. Help. Get me down!"

"Alright. I gotcha." Oliver reassures, grabbing Felicity's waist as she drops safely in his arms. "I gotcha, Honey."

Their eyes lock, hearts beating faster. They indulge in a chaste smooch simply because they can now.

"Thanks. You know I almost did it."

"Mmhm," Oliver concurs, reluctantly setting Felicity back on the floor. "You're halfway there."

"Halfway, I'll take it. P.E. was the only class in high school I ever earned a C in."

"I know. I did my homework, remember?"

"Yeah." Felicity nods, cheeks flushing slightly, though it certainly isn't from recent alcohol consumption, "You did."

He notes, "To be fair, we've both had a bit to drink."

"We've both had _a lot_ to drink," she corrects, closing the gap between them.

Felicity presses a harsh kiss against her husband's lips. They share sweet pecks until their kisses grow hotter. Despite himself, Oliver deepens the kiss. His arms wrap tightly around her waist. Their noses practically smashed against one another as her arms loop around his neck. Oxygen be damned, Oliver has to pull back for multiple reasons. They can't — not here.

"Felicity." Oliver utters, panting slightly, "We, uh, we promised Dig."

"Loophole," replies Felicity, seemingly just as breathless, "We promised John no more sex in our main lair, but this, my love, is our backup bunker."

God, he loves the way her mind works.

He smiles into their next kiss, "Fair enough."

"I love you."

His expression of love has little to do with words. Their mouths reconvene in an instant, almost as if they're breathing in the same air. Felicity strokes her tongue into his mouth. Oliver nibbles on her bottom lip before they part once more, if only a second. Felicity yanks off her husband's pea green t-shirt, unceremoniously throwing on the floor. It's as if their lips never leave each other until Oliver spins Felicity around, attempting to undo a row of large buttons at the back of her coral blouse. She gasps sharply in pleasure, craving so much more.

"You should just..." Oliver thinks aloud, struggling to find the right words. She pulls off her blouse quickly, tossing it on the floor. "Thank you." 

Felicity whips around. They kiss like they haven't touched each other in years, regardless of the fact that it's only been under an hour. Perks of working with your spouse. He cups her face delicately, his calloused hands contrasting her smooth skin greatly. Her palms slide over the scars on his back while his drift downward to the same. Catching their breaths, Oliver and Felicity gaze into each others' eyes with such love, lust, and respect.

Felicity speaks, no louder than a whisper, "Hi."

"Felicity... Hey," he greets, matching her volume.

A breath whooshes out of her when Oliver hoists Felicity into his arms. Her legs wrap his waist, heels pressing ever so slightly against the pockets of his khaki pants. Their kisses are messy, all tangled tongues and gnashing teeth. Oliver feels training mats under his bare feet. His fingers splay over her scarred back, tentatively caressing old wounds he never wishes she got. With a one-handed snap and fling, Felicity's lacy pale pink bra joins her coral blouse. Oliver lies back against the mat. Felicity takes the liberty of pinning her husband down, hooking her leg around his. Their hips start in a slow grind, her jeans and his khakis only adding to the sweet sensation of just them. Felicity teases a rather sensitive spot, his pulse point. Oliver groans, through it doesn't quite sound all that pleasurable.

"Hey, what is it? What's wrong?"

Eyes slipping shut, Oliver grits, "My back... It hurts."

"Oh my gosh." Felicity says, hands sweeping over his hair, "Do you want to stop, or...?"

"We just need to move somewhere else."

She directs, "There's a couch. Come on, tough guy. Come on."

The Queens pick back up where they left off. Their hips yet again engage in purposefully slow thrusts until they both realize they wearing way too many clothes. Her hardened nipples graze his pecs, making their descent over his bare torso. Her hand sneaks between their bodies, yanking down the zipper. Oliver follows suit, although his wife's skinny jeans require three strong tugs. Left in only their underwear, Oliver and Felicity find it a thousand times easier to their time. They kiss by the welcome glow of tonight's moon, remnants of  their wine-stained lips all but gone. With or without booze, making love to each other is always a rush. Felicity grinds over the perfect spot, his increasingly hard erection, before he shoves his hand right underneath her mismatched lavender panties. His fingers tease her entrance. She feels hot, and wetter with each passing touch. Her eyelids flutter as her hips move to their own volition. With his free hand, Oliver pulls her panties aside, exposing her sweet sex.

"Felicity?" Oliver wonders.

His wife gives him a resounding nod. With an okay, Oliver thrusts two digits in her hot core, stroking as her walls clamp gently down on him. His ministrations are met with unbidden moans as he works his way until he rediscovers a special spot deep inside of her. Crooking his fingers over it, her thighs quiver over him.

"Right there. _Right there_ ," his wife keens, lost in nothing, but pure electric feeling, "Don't stop. Oh, _Oliver_!"

When his thumb flicks her clit, Felicity succumbs to pleasure. A shudder wracks her body. She feels so warm, wet, and tight. Her walls pulse around his fingers as he continues to stroke her through an orgasm, despite the burn in his wrist. Sparks of pleasure are diffused, yet Felicity still bites back a moan at the sight of Oliver sucking his fingers clean, a view that has her groaning as well.

He smirks, running his hands over her bare thighs, "You look good."

"So do you, and Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

Felicity makes quick work of his boxers, finding his member. He's long, thick, hot, and hard in her much smaller hand. She pumps him slowly until he's just about damn near ready to explode, although that doesn't happen just quite yet. His fingers entangle themselves with hers. Wrong move because the added pressure feels utterly incredible. They share a gentle kiss. Felicity sinks down, and Oliver thrusts in, meeting her halfway. Pleasured cries ring through the enclosed space. Oliver and Felicity have a slow, intimate rhythm at first. Until they crave more friction, heat, and simply each other. His hands bracket her hips, guiding her down deeper. Panting breaths dance over their faces. Her torso drapes over his. When his thumb circles her clit again, Felicity breaks for the second time that night. Pleasure seeps down his shaft. Her walls squeeze him deliciously. A thrill shoots up the base of his spine. Not three thrusts later, Oliver falls right over the edge with a rough amalgamation of his wife's name rumbling from his throat. They both grunt at the loss of sensation when Oliver pulls out, careful to not bombard her with his heavy, muscular weight.

His voice hoarse, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I love you."

"Right back atcha." Felicity murmurs groggily with a euphoric grin. "Mm, I could fall asleep just like this."

"So why don't we?"

Rubbing her arms, his wife intones, "It's a little chilly."

Oliver fetches a black blanket and green comforter from a slim supply closet. Wrapped up in blankets and each other, Oliver and Felicity take a moment's respite on their cream colored couch. With a leg draped over his, her tangerine painted toenails scrape gently over his hairy calf. Not to hurt, but just to give him a bit of a feel. Oliver's arm is slung loosely over Felicity's shoulder, fingertips mapping out the scar on her shoulder. She shifts slightly, cuddling further into his side. They hold hands, playing with each others' fingertips just so they can stay awake.

"You alright, Felicity?"

"Uh-huh," she answers. "Just promise me not tell anyone we had bunker sex again."

A breathy laughs lifts Felicity a bit, "I think this was Curtis' plan all along. It was a setup. Actually, come on, we both know he was rooting for _exactly this_ to happen, seeing as he's done this before."

"I am so not complaining. He's a pretty brilliant guy."

He nuzzles her nose in agreement, thumb padding over the gems on her rings. "Still, this was nice, really nice."

"I think it was amazing."

"Mm, Honey." Felicity mumbles, nearly drifting off to sleep on top of him, "Two things: We need to get a new couch."

"Okay, and the second thing?"

"We can never, ever tell, John."

By early morning after his jog, Curtis checks in on Oliver and Felicity. Tousled sex hair and chocolate chip pancakes demonstrate his little plan worked like a charm. Felicity's cheeks redden at her friend's knowing smile. But as they sit down for breakfast with the team, the Queens realize they should definitely have nights like that more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


	2. Oye Como Va (Hey, how's it going?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feliz cinco de Mayo. Espero que todos disfruten de esta historia (Happy May 5th. I hope you all enjoy this story.) My boyfriend and I love a little Carlos Santana, hence, the title. Fair warning: This chapter contains consensual anal sex, so if that's not your drink of choice, skip it.

( _Olicity black and white edit from 520 "Underneath" via[source](http://emilybuttrickards.tumblr.com/post/160285183615)_.)

Rousing guitar strums really liven up Ortega's — one of the Queen couple's favorite Latin food fusion restaurants. It's painfully cliche, but fitting considering the holiday. Besides Felicity has a good rapport with the owner, Emilio. The new site for Queen Incorporated is a hop, skip, and a jump away from there. On a rare night, Star City was quiet and peaceful. Well, except for the increase in numerous drunk driving incidents. Thank god, crime lords and super villains have decided to take a night off. The playlist in Oliver and Felicity's rare time away from crime fight has been some old school Desi Arnaz, Santana, Los Loney Boys, Shakira, JLo, Royce, and Pitbull. Oliver and Felicity have been here for hours, being concealed at a back patio table away from prying lenses of paparazzi vermin. 

Oliver's pozole verde all but gone to just a drop of the green, mildly spicy, and thickened broth in a brown ceramic bowl. The same goes for Felicity's mini-taco platter. Crumbs of shells and stringy cheese are the last remnants of food. Now, they're just simply enjoying one another's company. Felicity sits on her haunches, perching on her husband's good knee with his black leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Oliver takes a swig of his ice water as Felicity toys with buttons on his navy blue dress shirt. Normally, they would have opted for a respective tequila shot and a Sangria/Magarita combo, Emilio's bartender Isa likes to call the fruity cocktail a Sangrita. However, they've ridden Oliver's motorbike to get here, and it certainly won't look good if the mayor sets a bad example.

Oliver plants a little kiss to her knuckles, wondering, "Talk to me, Felicity. You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." She replies with a shake of her head, "It's just... I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"Okay, let's backtrack."

Felicity's fingers lightly tap against her chin in thought. A car passes by after a long beat of staring at traffic.

"Shit!" Felicity realizes, "I'm supposed to approve Curtis' schematics for an adapted steering wheel. It's on a red thumb drive I left in the lair. I have to give him my notes by Monday."

"No problem, let's just pay the bill and head back to my old campaign office."

His wife says, pursing her lips, "I feel like I put on damper on date night."

"No you didn't, don't worry," insists her husband, kissing away any doubt. 

They split the bill, stacking a few twenties with a generous tip. Oliver and Felicity race out the door, shoes pounding against the pavement. They reach Oliver's crimson and black Ducati Diavel in a matter of minutes. He hands Felicity her helmet, but before she puts it on, Felicity's lips collide with his in an ardent kiss.

She chimes, "Thank you."

"Hey." Oliver understands, a soft smile creasing his lips, "Sometimes work does actually have to come first."

"Not for that. Well, for that too. But that kiss was a way to say thank you for dancing with me tonight. I know it's not your favorite thing.

"Anything for you." He promises, straddling the bike

The engine rumbles. Felicity loops her arms around Oliver's middle, and off they go. The first couple of Star City zips in between a lot of Priuses, mini-Coopers, and Neros, newfangled hybrid vehicles on the market today. Lights from Starling Bridge look so pretty during this hour. Felicity is lost in thought. She used to to be a little anxious on Oliver's beloved motorcycle, but now she revels in little things — wind whipping through her hair, zooming past cars at a standstill, and looking at scenery on the open road. Not forty minutes later are Oliver and Felicity at their home away from home, Team Arrow's main bunker. Elevator doors slide open, florescent lights whir on overhead. Felicity's stiletto boots clomp against the tiled floor, eyes darting back and forth in search of a crimson USB. She spots the little thumb drive on a vacant area of her workstation. That particular spot is designated for Oliver, though they use that space more so for the mini-fridge underneath it, which frequently holds something alcoholic and snacks.

"Oh, thank God." Felicity breathes a sigh of relief, hastily tucking away the thumb drive into her purse. "I've got it."

"Great," he exclaims, massaging the small of her back. "So you want to go home now?"

"Mmm, we skipped dessert," she thinks, snookering a pale yellow box from the mini-fridge. "and those wine infused fudge bites are calling my name."

Clouds roll in, and rain pitter patters down by the time Oliver and Felicity transform the bunker's garage into a makeshift picnic. A maroon afghan is spread across the floor. Felicity rests her head on Oliver's lap as he feeds her these little chocolate morsels. Technically, the alcohol dissipates when baked or cooked off, so the flavor resembles chewy cocoa bites with grape juice that surprisingly doesn't sound half bad. Wanting to know why his wife likes these so much, the off-duty emerald archer sneaks a taste. After a few slow, languid chews, his face crumples with increasing levels of disgust. He then proceeds to run over to the nearest trash can, spitting out that snack.

"Ugh, who gave those to you?"

Oliver guzzles a bottle of water as Felicity answers, "Bruce sent me a whole basket of Canadian snacks after his business trip in Vancouver."

"Wayne, of course he did," her husband grumbles after swallowing one more swig.

"Relax. Bruce was just being polite. I mean, he is my business partner, Honey."

Rain knocks out the power momentarily, but Cisco gifted Team Arrow with one Hell of a backup generator. The lair is soon bathed in an old school buttery yellow light. They find some extra candles, and venture over to an old twin bed Felicity bought Oliver years ago. Well, they were alone together — no Dig or other masked recruits on site. Grabbing her hand, Oliver looks to Felicity then the bed.

With an adorable boyish grin, her husband suggests, "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah." Felicity points out, "But aren't you the one who always worries about John's no-sex rule?"

"Some rules are meant to be broken. Besides it is date night."

Looking at the size of the bed, his wife wonders, "Do you think we can both fit?"

"Oh, I have my ways." He whispers low in her ear.

"Fine." She accepts finally, noting, "But no humming Bruce Springsteen songs afterwards. It bothers me when I'm trying to sleep."

"Babe, that was a one time earworm. I promise."

Thunder rumbles, and minutes later, lightning strikes follow. However, weather does nothing to deter Oliver and Felicity's other nightly activities. Candles flicker softly, illuminating the trail of scattered clothes to their bed. They don't know how much time has passed, but this right now is damn near perfect. Felicity is well on her way to her second orgasm. Oliver is a wizard with his fingers. Springs squeak under Oliver and Felicity's unrelenting thrusts. His pelvis is flush against hers before he pulls out, and strokes back in rapidly.

" _Almost... Almost_." Felicity whimpers, clinging to her husband for dear life while her heels dig into his butt cheeks.

On that note, Oliver's lips descend down the column of her throat he rasps, "I got you, Baby. I do."

He always does, and he hears her. Of course Oliver knows Felicity's body like his own. With a slight change in angle, his form towers over her, pushing up on his toes. He barely leaves her hot core before her walls quiver around his member. It isn't until he sucks hard on her pulse point, stubble deliciously prickling her neck, and is deep-seated inside her when she's right there. Her mouth falls open, trying to remember how to breathe. Felicity comes with a guttural groan, nipping at her husband's broad shoulder. Her back arches into him, nails scratching over his scarred back. That only serves to spur Oliver on. With one final thrust, he spills into her in long, hot spurts. It's awhile before their pleasured haze clear away. But his wife's whole body is resting atop his, and he loves it.

Nose brushing against his, Felicity notes, "That was kind of amazing. Pretty good idea there, Hon."

"They have been known to enter my brain on occasion," he chuckles, lifting her with him.

They only move to shower quickly, and get partially redressed. Over an hour has gone since they've reentered the bunker, yet now Oliver feels like working out.

Perplexed by this, she wants to know, "What? Did I not tire you enough?"

"No, it's not that. You're incredible Felicity, especially when you do that thing with your..."

"Oh that," his wife interrupts, waving off as if it's nothing, "I know."

He mentions, "I just want to keep my endurance and stamina up."

"So if that's the case, how 'bout Round 2?"

"Are you sure?" Her husband worries, thinking of Felicity before himself, "I don't want you to get sore."

Felicity scoffs, leading him over to the large conference table, "Do you not remember Bali?"

"Both times." His breath tickles her ear, abruptly he turns her around, "Is this okay?"

"Ah!" She lets out a sharp exhale in surprise, "So you can take a hint."

They got a little more adventurous in Bali during their first trip there and once again on their honeymoon. Felicity dangles from the edge of the table, using Oliver's leather jacket as a cushion. Her ass is voluptuous and gorgeous, even more so now that she's begun sparring with Oliver and Dig. It's probably his favorite part of her whole body. An arm bands around her waist. His fingers make quick work of undoing the buttons of her blush sweater. She shivers slightly, propping up on her arms at the perfect height for both of them. Wet kisses trail slowly down Felicity's back. Oliver takes his time, etching a silent and heartfelt "I love you" into her mangled skin. He grips her ass lightly before he yanks down her simple white cotton panties. Oliver doesn't give her so much as a warning when he caresses her sex. He teases her, gliding his digits across it. He strokes his fingers in hard and fast while he lets go out of her waist, only to rub over her clit at an equally maddening pace. A slew of expletives echo throughout the cavernous space, and Felicity grows amply warm and wet. He spreads her juices over her pert little hole, although Felicity's eyes are draped shut. If it wasn't for the way she was breathing, Oliver would've thought she's succumbed to sleep.

"You need a minute, Felicity?"

"Yeah." Felicity nods vigorously, and to his surprise turns over onto her back, "Two things, first. One: kiss me."

Their lips connect in a languid, yet soft kiss — one with the utmost love for one another.

"And...?"

She reminds, "Don't forget the lube."

"Right, right." He figures, slapping his forehead, "Where's that bottle of KY we kept?"

"Medbay lower cabinet to your left behind the epoxy spray for the suits."

Walking a few feet over, Oliver reports, "On it."

Within a matter of seconds, he finds a blue and white bottle of lubricant. Felicity climbs further up the table, making room for her husband. Oliver quickly steps out of his sweatpants, no boxers. His sweatshirt isn't far behind. Just by feeling his wife come around his fingers made him half hard, although he isn't at full attention yet.

Before Oliver's hand grazes his erection, Felicity pipes up, "Need some help there, Hon?"

"You already are." He grits, pumping himself slowly. His eyes fixated over the gorgeous curves on her body. He remembers the sweet little noises she makes, sounds Oliver desperately wants to hear again. However, he pulls back before it's too much. "God, Felicity."

Felicity erupts in a shocked giggle when Oliver turns her over onto her stomach. With a couple dollops of some KY jelly. Oliver climbs over Felicity. She can feel a bit of heat radiating off his torso. An arm loops around her waist again, and he positions himself at her entrance.

"Mmm... Oliver, go slow." His wife warns hastily, words muffled into his jacket that's definitely going to smell like her, but he's so not complaining at all, "and gentle."

"I promise." Her husband speaks in a low tone, kissing the back of her neck softly. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, it's not our first rodeo, cowboy."

True. There's always Bali twice. That restroom at the Palazzo in Vegas, and that walk-in closet in their rental house when they had to stay in Gotham for five months.

Oliver pushes in slowly and gently, and Felicity thrusts back against him. He stops when she gasps, but the bite of her nails in the back of his hand signals Oliver can keep going. He doesn't go very deep at first, letting her adjust to the fullness. But, god the thought of those muscles squeezing his cock is beguiling. He doesn't know how she does it, or how Felicity's even doing it right now, but it's hot as hell. The next thrust is faster and deeper. They meet each other halfway, but God, Felicity needs something different. Oliver pulls her against his chest, still taking her from behind. A large hand palms her breast, tweaking the nipple through her sweater, which earns him an outcry of "Yes!"

Soon gone is the vicinity of gentle, but Felicity meets him, ass practically flush against his pelvis, though not quite that far God, she looks even more sexy than before. There's something about the way her skin feels against his. It's everything, so intimate, even though they can't really look in each others' eyes like usual. And... Now she's squeezing him, so incredibly tight it's euphoric. He can't take it anymore. Almost to his own surprise, Oliver's happy ending occurs soon than expected.

A harsh shout escapes from his mouth, " _Fuck... Felicity!_ "

"Oh, my God," she mewls.

On that note, Oliver wonders if that means she's come again or has hurt her in some way?

When his body cools down, he implores, "Felicity, hey. Are you..? Did I..?"

The thought alone is vile.

Yet a pink hue tints over areas of her bare skin.

"I'm fine." Felicity reassures, sounding almost tipsy. "I swear."

Multiple orgasms definitely mean it's time for a shower and a nap. They really need to clean this place up for reasons, and they do so a bit right before sunrise.

Ready to start a new day, "Oye Come Va" by Santana pulses over a former Master Sergeant's earbuds, prepping for a five mile run with his teammates. The telltale ding of their elevator serves as their alarm clock.

"Wh-what?" Oliver sputters, "Damn it."

Dig growls, marching over to the two lovebirds, "What the damn hell?"

"What's going on?" Felicity stirs, voice still laden with slumber.

"I don't even what to you what you two did down here,"

His friends starts, "We..."

He has no excuse.

"I don't want to hear it." Dig cuts in, "Clean this place up when I'm back by 0600."

"John, we are really sorry." Felicity adds, jutting out her bottom lip.

"If this happens again." Dig says, getting the Hell out of Dodge, "I want it in writing _no bunker sex_."

Like a contract's so scary. Despite that, Oliver and Felicity clean up the rest of their mess. The team does all have to share this space. However, bunker sex may happen again. It's too easy to not take advantage of this place when Star City's First Couple has some much needed time alone together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca).


	3. Training Session

( _Originally from 520 "Underneath" via[source](http://oliverxfelicity.tumblr.com/post/160286011971/320-406-520)_.)

Thea strolls into her brother's old campaign office with two garment bags straight from the dry cleaner's. Her hand darts out, readying to push the button to Team Arrow's not-so secret elevator. However, a broad arm pulls her back abruptly. For a second, she goes to reach for the pepper spray in her bandolier, but soon realizes evident by that firm wall of muscle, it's safe. That's just Dig.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the petite brunette surmises, "Those two are at it again."

"Do you really want me to answer that question, Speedy?" Dig figures, pulling up a chair for his friend.

"No."

John and Thea both know what the married couple of their superhero squad does when a "training session" is in progress. Yes, actually sparring does in fact take place, although sometimes one flip on the ground makes the Queens to behave like randy bunnies, even after the physical contract they've signed for Dig.

"We had a written agreement, Thea."

Handing cupping her cheek, Thea responds "It's Ollie and Felicity, Dig. Did you really expect anything less? That said, I don't like this either."

The pair sits, praying they don't hear a peep from the bunker while they play a hand of gin rummy. Kendo sticks clatter against the training mats.

Panting slightly, her usually broody husband jokes, "I've taught you well, young padawan."

"That's really hot." Felicity blurts, breathing heavily for a entirely different reason now. "I mean, I love when you make _Star Wars_ references."

"I know." Oliver acknowledges, a minute smile creasing his lips.

Eyes fixated on the sweat stain on his chest, his wife suggests, "Take your shirt off, Honey."

"No."

She pouts, lips falling into a frown, "Why not?"

"You get easily distracted, Baby. I know this. You know it too, and we still have one more move to work on today."

Adopting a fighting stance, Oliver and Felicity begin a second round. Her punches definitely pack a wallop now, and the blonde hacker can execute them better without bruising her knuckles. Oliver simply blocks, moving back with her. Felicity's fist collides with the emerald archer's calloused hand. It's a definite improvement from where she first started, but the move can't tire out her husband yet.

"Damn it!" Felicity exclaims, berating hilariously, "You big oak tree!"

On that note, Oliver doubles over, a laugh billowing out of him like he's surprised by it, "What?"

Felicity spins, purposefully kicking a weak spot — Oliver's bad knee. The blow isn't enough to do any major damage, but "the big oak tree" gets cut down a peg. His back hits the floor with a soft thud.

Offering him a hand, she recalls with a cheeky grin, "Lesson one: Never let your guard down, Queen."

"That's what I'm talking about, Felicity," her husband complements, pulling her into his side for a one-armed hug, "That's good work."

"Thank you." Felicity notes proudly, chin prodding his chest.

Suddenly, Oliver flips Felicity on her back without even so much as warning. It's nowhere as hard as he would do with Dig or Thea. In fact, it's so very delicate as if he's laying with his wife in bed after a long night's work. His body blankets hers. Their gazes linger on one another with just a pure sense of calmness and serenity.

Propping up on his elbows, he teases lovingly, "Gotcha. Hey, Felicity?"

"Yeah."

"Who taught you how to cheat during a sparring session?"

His wife questions right back, "Who do you think?"

"Thea." He answers, figuring out, "So that's what you've been doing on your girls' days?"

"Duh." Felicity retorts, fingertips trailing down his firm torso. "You're a really great teacher, but sometimes you have a tendency to go easiest on me, and I know why because I'm your wife, but..." 

"Felicity." Her husband interrupts, enunciating every single syllable of her name. "It's not just because of that. It's because I love you differently than anyone else. I can and I will always protect you. It's why I still wear the mask because I don't know what would become of me if anything else ever happened to you."

"Oliver." She reminds, thumbs brushing over his stubble, "We've gone over this a million times what Darhk did was never your fault, and you know as well as I do, you can't promise me that."

"Yes, I c..."

"No, no, you can't." His wife cuts in, yanking his arm behind her back. Despite the cotton barrier, he understands what she means. The scars from a barrage of bullets and multiple surgeries are stark reminders of that very fact. "I love you, but if the last six years is any indication we both have seen the kind of world that we live in now. But whatever does happen to us next, I know that we can find another way to work through it. And I trust that you'll be by my side when I need you."

He whispers gently, "Always."

Oliver closes the short distance between them, kissing her softly at first. Felicity takes the liberty of finally removing her husband's blue t-shirt.

"See?" Felicity breathes, hands sliding over his now bare back, "So much better."

"Um," Her husband mentions, "I'm kinda sweaty."

"Me too." She sighs, instructing, "Hold me."

Oliver does so, and Felicity uses her body weight to place Oliver onto his back again. He makes quick work of stripping off her magenta t-shirt. Their lips collide in a passionate frenzy of kisses. Nine times out of ten, Felicity loves this position — being on top and in control. Hell, she loves just about sex position with her hunky husband. However, this one in particular is her most favorite of all. Her hips move in a tantalizing slow grind, causing him to thrust up against her. Their kisses become passionate and intense. Felicity's going to have beard burn by tonight at Oliver's birthday party — one he doesn't know about, or at least the team hopes not. Although, Felicity suspects with Oliver's "ninja skills" he has an inking or two. Their pants certainly don't hinder the friction growing between them. However, they soon realize too many clothes, too little time. 

Grabbing her hips, Oliver hesitates, "Wait... Here? Now?"

"Really?" She bites her lower lip, "It's your birthday, and you're telling me you don't want to have bunker sex. You love bunker sex."

"I love sex with you anytime, anywhere, Felicity."

Rolling her eyes, Felicity scoffs, "That's such a typical guy answer, cheeseball. Do you want to do it, or not?"

"So romantic, aren't you, Mrs. Queen?"

She smirks, slapping his chest, "Save your breath, Oliver. You're just as bad. Unless you had something else in mind."

"Well..." He says, pitch rising. "Nah... Never mind, we can save that one for another night."

"Wait, what one?" His wife inquires, needing to know more. "Please don't give me some crazy request like a threesome with Sara or something."

"No, no. I just want you." Her husband promises, hands gliding up her thighs, "I was thinking about some Malbec, birthday cake, and maybe..."

Felicity prompts, a rush of pleasure tugging at her core, "Go on."

"Ripping that new dress off you, making you come around my fingers as long as you want."

"Oh, God."

However, Oliver certainly isn't done yet, not by a long shot.

"Licking frosting off you before I sip wine out of your bellybutton." His mitigated gaze flickers over to hers, lips ticking up knowingly, "But of course, it'll have to be after that surprise party you planned for me on the rooftop of Starling Fairmont."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Felicity questions, "Wait a minute. Who squealed?"

"Who do you think? Curtis sang like a canary after he saw me doing the salmon ladder a few days ago."

She will have a stern talk with her employee later, but for now, Felicity has her remarkable mind set on something else.

"Huh?" His wife figures, "We can still do all of that later. But right now, all I want is you. Unless, of course, you don't have enough energy for more than one round in your old age, Oliver. I mean I know you aren't eighteen any..."

Oliver cuts off her with a harsh kiss, nipping at her bottom lip before his tongue explores her mouth. Sounds of protest mirror each other when they have to pull away, only to remove their pants. Strangely, Oliver doesn't follow suit. His eyes linger on her beautiful nude body. Knowing this, she puts on a bit of a strip tease, moving in a slow, seductive, and purposeful manner. By the time her mismatched pale pink lacy bra and barely there black panties are flung over by the salmon ladder, Oliver still has yet to remove his pants or shoes. Felicity stands there waiting, hands bracketing her hips. She's damn near ready to matters into her own hands, fingers heading straight down towards her clit.

"Don't." insists her husband with a finger wag, "Come here."

Felicity traipses over to Oliver, confident in the fact that she's wearing nothing but a radiant smile, "Hey, stranger."

"Hi, beautiful." Oliver breathes, no louder than a whisper.

With that, the duo closes a narrow gap between them. Their lips yet again meld together in a passionate frenzy. Felicity's fingers splay out over her husband's scarred back, setting on his lower burn marks. Pants and whimpers are interspersed between smooches. When Felicity attempts to go for the zipper of his cargo pants. Oliver's hands immediately glide from her hair, back, and ass, smacking her butt cheeks lightly. If it was anyone else, Felicity would be pissed off to end. However, it's Oliver. He doesn't do it very hard, although the brief sting causes her to bite his lip. He enjoys it. His palm gently massages the same spot. Her arms loop around his neck. Oliver gathers Felicity up, lifting her over his shoulders. He strides over to the parking garage, patting Felicity on the butt again as they venture over to his beloved old Ducati, one that no longer works. His ministrations are met with delighted giggles until she's set back down on the floor.

Now it's her turn to ask, "Here? Now?"

"Only if you want to," he obliges.

It's going to be a little tricky, but someone's certainly being creative on his special day.

"Sure," She concurs, wondering, "But how do we...?"

As if on cue, Oliver steps out of his shoes and socks. Then subsequently loses his pants and boxers. His fingers circle over her clit while her hand strokes him from base to tip, pumping him slowly when his digits slip through her natural wetness. Their eyes threaten to close, but neither Oliver nor Felicity do that. There's something about watching each other when they masturbate that really adds to mind-blowing sensations. The Queens relent before it's over too soon. Felicity's legs are shaky, and Oliver has a heady rush that makes a moan positively vibrate against her mouth. Oliver straddles the very back of the bike more than ready when Felicity hovers over him. She sinks down on her husband's slowly, enveloping him in her wet heat. They fit together like puzzle pieces, different, yet similar. Anyone needs both to create the perfect picture.

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?"

Putting her hands to his shoulders, all he has to say, "We need to do this hard and fast."

She nods reverently. Oliver can't move much, seeing as Felicity has to use him for balance. Although he does manage to help guide her hips, being very mindful that her back won't hit the handlebars. They kiss when she thrusts down again, her walls squeezing his cock instinctively. Oliver is the one who wants this, yet Felicity has almost total control. Just like she likes it. Eventually, the Queens develop a short and fast staccato rhythm. Skin slaps against skin.

"Oliver." Her voice trembles along with sparks of pleasure that's also making her abdomen clench, "I need..."

He knows exactly what she needs. Oliver holds her hips aloft, bringing his wife closer to him. His mouth roots around until he finds her nipple. He sucks on it firmly until she tugs on his hair, momentarily worried she's going to rip out sooner rather than later. With one last thrust, they both fall over the edge together, quicker than they've ever imagined. Felicity cradles him between her legs while Oliver's still inside her. He holds her safely in his arms. Their skin both flushed pink as they both take in desperate bids for air. It's unlike anything they've ever experience, which is albeit somewhat surprising, considering they are times away from Star City when they only left the bedroom for food, water, and to relieve themselves. They absolutely detest moving this very moment, but this bike isn't a very comfortable resting spot.

A quick shower and clean up later, Thea figures it's safe to head down now.

Peering through her fingers like a little kid, the youngest Queen hopes, Ollie, Felicity, clothes on? Please don't be naked. Please don't be naked."

"Thea, hey." Her sister-in-law draws out, promising, "It's fine. Oliver and I were just..."

"Ugh, that may be something I never need to hear ever, so please stop right there. I came down to tell you two I have your outfits for the gala tonight."

Her brother chuckles, "I know about my birthday party, Thea."

"Felicity." She thinks, "You told him already."

"Wasn't me," Felicity swears with a shake of her head, "Blame Curtis."

"Subtlety is not that dude's forte."

With a pop on the p, the blonde hacker agrees, "Nope."

"Ollie, I was actually wondering if I could use the seat from your old bike. Jinxie got her claws in mine, so ya know."

"Um..." Oliver suggests, grabbing a familiar set of car keys out of his back pocket,"Take the Porsche."

"You never let me take the Porsche."

Felicity interjects, "Thea, don't look a gifthorse in the mouth."

"Gotcha," she nods.

Night falls over Star City, Oliver and Felicity are almost ready to head over to the hotel rooftop. Felicity's just snapping in some diamonds studs along with her cartilage piecing. Oliver's eyes fixate on her. Never once did he think he'd get to celebrate a normal birthday. Sad memories cloud him, if only for a moment. But then he remembers what he has right in front of an amazing wife who's planned this entire party just for him.

Her husband utters, wrapping her in his arms, "Thank you."

"To what do I owe that pleasure? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes." He smiles briefly, "Just thank you."

"For what?" Felicity inquires, thumb grazing his ring.

"For tonight, for everything really."

She double checks, knowing how sad events plague this day, "Are you actually okay?"

"Yes, I promise."

Oliver's no stranger to rooftops, although he's usually wearing a different kind of suit. Felicity leads him up a final set of stairs. Green lanterns illuminate the space along with fairy lights, and the First Couple is soon greeted by friends and family. Oliver musters a very mayoral like speech. Thankfully, it's not just the dark times bringing them together anymore. Everyone's presence alone and gifts are wonderful. Emotion chokes him when Felicity gives him a watch that looks like an exact replica of one Robert used to wear because it is with the exception of Oliver's monogrammed initials. Thea also gifts both Oliver (and Felicity) technically with a Curtis Swan landscape that Lieutenant Pike recovered from the fire at Queen Manor. Partygoers eat, drink, and be merry until festivities come to a close. However, this power couple has yet to call it a night.

They couldn't snooker enough cake from the party, but whipped cream works just as well. Felicity is laying in the center of their bed with Oliver's head between her legs. The sounds he makes when he eats her out, and the way he works his fingers is positively intoxicating. Her juices coat his chin. She tastes rich, sweet, and just everything good about Felicity

"Yeah, yeah, yeah  _Just like that_." Felicity keens, white-knuckling fistfuls of sheets, "Oh, _Oliver_! I can't... I can't... _Fuck_!"

He plants little kisses over her trembling thighs. When Oliver wipes his mouth, she groans lowly. Just as Oliver flicks open the button of his white shirt, a loud series of knocks bombard their front door. Oliver angrily trudges downstairs.

"SCPD!" A man announces, "Open up!"

Looking through the peephole that is indeed the case, Oliver queries routinely, "Is there a problem here, officer?"

"Sorry to bother you at home, Mr. Mayor. But your next door neighbor, Mrs. Klein, reported a woman in possible distress here at this address. She claims to have heard said woman in question screaming, 'Oh, I can't... I can't.'"

Clearing his throat, Oliver admits "That was actually my wife, who's perfectly fine. See, it's my birthday..."

"Ah, say no more, sir." The officer surmises with a wink, "Just try to keep the noise level down next time."

He smiles broadly, "Will do."

"Oh my God, I didn't think I was that loud. I can't believe the cops came. Man, Mrs. Klein has good hearing aids. I just... I.... Oh, Honey," Felicity blushes furiously, cacooning herself in their striped comforter.

Climbing into bed beside her, "Honey, it's perfectly fine. Now where we?"

"No!" She protests, offering, "Ask me again in the morning when Mrs. K walks Scruffy."

Oliver grumbles, but it's still has been one Hell of a birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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